Cheerleading Can Be Murder (Horror High #1)

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  “Who did that?” she howled, the annoying sound of her voice echoing throughout the massive gymnasium. Not backing down, I smiled at her brightly and locked my eyes on hers, enjoying one small moment of revenge. Little did she know, I was planning to achieve a much greater revenge—I was going to get a spot on the squad, no matter what it took to obtain it.

  ***

  The last period of the day was Study Hall. Lucky for me, it was only forty minutes long. The first twenty-five minutes was supposed to be for quiet, individualized study and homework, but the last fifteen minutes was free time. Since I had very little schoolwork from my first day, I planned to rehearse some of my moves in my mind and do some positive self-talk and meditation. Then I planned on spending the last fifteen minutes applying makeup and styling my hair, so that all I’d have to do when the bell rang was put on my gym clothes and wait for tryouts to begin.

  I found a decent seat in the back, but didn’t see Sydney or Amanda. I was hoping to see them, but in all honesty, I needed some time to relax and calm my nerves. I was just grateful not to see Genevieve or her pal, Mariella. I placed my overloaded backpack under the seat, got comfortable, and then leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes.

  My mother had a degree in Social Work, and I couldn’t begin to count the number of times she preached about the usefulness of relaxation techniques and positive imaging. I decided to take a page from her book, imagining myself standing alone in the middle of the gym floor.

  My feet were planted firmly on the hardwood surface, and I stared straight ahead with a smile. I bent my knees, keeping my back and neck straight as an arrow. Lifting my arms, I pushed off from my toes, and reached my knees up to my chin as I flipped. My feet hit the floor simultaneously. I’d landed my standing back tuck perfectly.

  I’d pictured this scenario a thousand times, and in the next scene, the gymnasium erupted with applause. But that part never came because a whiny, high-pitched voice invaded my daydream, and I jerked my eyes open, agitated. The voice belonged to Brittani Barlow, Principal Barlow’s daughter, sitting in the desk right next to me.

  She was talking to two other classmates about tryouts. “It’s going to be an awesome year. I know we’ll definitely get to go to the finals in Dallas!” she declared, not caring that everyone around us could hear her. She was talking about one of the biggest cheer competitions in the country, and she was talking about it as though she’d already made the team. I couldn’t help it this time. I groaned audibly.

  She jerked around, eyeballing me. “Just yawning,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Are you trying out this year, Dakota?”

  “Yes, I am,” I admitted, waiting for a rude retort.

  Instead she surprised me by saying, “Good luck today,” and she actually sounded genuine. “Thanks. You too,” I grumbled, closing my eyes again.

  I tried to conjure up more images of success, but I’d lost interest in it. Mrs. Bartlett was sitting at a stiff metal desk in the front, grading papers. What could she possibly be grading on the first day already? I wondered. The important thing was that she was in her own little world, and didn’t seem to be paying attention to us. It wasn’t free time yet, but I pulled out my makeup bag anyway. I started applying concealer methodically.

  I didn’t usually wear much makeup, but today was not a typical day. I smiled at myself in the mirror, and again tried to channel my mother’s method of positive thinking. But it was hard for me when I looked in the mirror. I was by no means ugly, but I was rather plain, with mousy brown hair that hung slightly below my shoulders. It’s not curly, but it’s not straight either. I had light blue eyes and average skin. I just didn’t feel like anything special, really.

  But when I put on the glitter, channeled my inner glam girl, and jiggled those pompoms around, I somehow felt like a better version of myself. I’ve got to make the team, I thought determinedly. I finished my makeup and secured my hair in a basic ponytail. I added a thin, black and gold ribbon to it, to represent Harrow’s school colors. I couldn’t help it—I had to look at the clock. Only a few minutes to go!

  It was time to knock their freaking socks off.

  Chapter Five

  I didn’t care how silly I looked…as soon as that final bell sounded, I took off jogging toward the gymnasium. I wanted to be the first one there, so this time I could get dressed in private. Relieved to find the gym empty, I snuck into the locker room, changed quickly, and took one last look at my overall appearance in the mirror. I looked decent. The important thing today is not how I look, but how well I cheer, I reminded myself. You can do this, I repeated over and over in my mind.

  Once dressed, I walked across the gym floor and took a seat on the team bench, the same bench that the home team basketball players would sit on come game night, and the one that Ronnie would place his cute behind on. Basketball tryouts had been held over the summer; I wished cheerleading tryouts were held the same way, but I couldn’t get that lucky.

  I imagined Ronnie’s firm body running up and down the court, his skin glistening with the soft, wavy glow of his sweat. I imagined him leaning forward, tucking my hair behind my ear the way he used to…

  I shook the perfect image of him away, my neck and shoulders splotchy from embarrassment. He is the last person you should be thinking of, Dakota!

  Since I was the first to arrive, I had to sit and watch my competition as they arrived one by one. Unsurprisingly, the returning four girls arrived together. The Triple Ts—Tasha, Tally, and Teresa—were skipping toward the locker room, their arms interlocked, while poor, gawky Monika tagged along behind them. She looked like a lost puppy.

  Ashleigh and Brittani were a few steps behind them, and then Genevieve and Mariella strutted in, also arm in arm. They both stuck their noses up at me, disappearing inside the locker room.

  Amanda and Sydney were the last to arrive. Finally, someone I was happy to see!

  My mind was blank as I waited for the others to change, primp, and come join me on the bench. By the time we were all settled onto the seat, I’d counted eleven of us.

  Looking at the numbers, it was pretty close to what I’d expected, except for the addition of Amanda, who totally threw me for a loop by showing up today. I wasn’t even sure if she knew a thing about cheering, dance, or gymnastics. I guess I’ll find out soon enough, I thought, swallowing down a lump in my throat.

  Six of us would make it, and five of us would not. I just had to make sure that I fell into the first group.

  Chapter Six

  When Coach Dolly Davis walked through the door, the gym was so silent you could have heard a pin drop. Even though these girls were my competition, some of them were my friends, and all of us were undeniably nervous. Somehow, I felt a sense of camaraderie with these girls, considering the fact that we were all in the same boat.

  Coach Davis was a former NFL cheerleader, with the cheerleading skills to prove it. She’s past the age of forty now, but her age didn’t put a damper on her beauty. She had soft, auburn curls that hung in ringlets to her chest, bold blue eyes, and a small but athletic figure. When she wasn’t coaching, she was busy teaching Western Literature to sophomores. I’d heard she was a nice teacher, considered “easy” by most of her students. Unfortunately, her reputation as a coach differed greatly. She was serious when it came to cheerleading, and rumor had it she was tough, and sometimes cruel, to her squad.

  This was her fifth year coaching, and I knew she was more than a little familiar with the Triple Ts and Monika, as well as Ashleigh, who tried out every year. I still didn’t think it was fair, but I reminded myself that nothing ever is, and held my breath as Coach began talking.

  “Welcome, girls. Cheerleading tryouts are never easy, as I’m sure those of you who’ve tried out with me before can attest to. The process usually involves one full day of learning the routine, and then the next day I announce the names of those who have made the team. But…this year, I’m going to do things a little differently. There will st
ill be six girls who make it, but I will also choose a seventh girl to serve as an alternate. If someone is out sick, or God forbid someone sustains an injury, we will have someone as a back-up to fill in when necessary, or as a permanent replacement if need be. I would also like to inform everyone that just because you were on the team last year does not mean you will necessarily make it again. I am a strong believer in fairness, and I want everyone to have a fair shot at making the squad.”

  She went on, “However, in order to be eligible for the team, all members are required to maintain a 3.0 GPA. If any of you girls don’t think you can handle that, please feel free to leave now.”

  Again, the gym was filled with silence. Everyone stayed put in their seats. “Okay,” Coach continued, “I also want to discuss my attendance policy. I will expect each and every girl who makes the team to attend all practices, games, and competitions, unless you have a doctor’s note. Each member of the squad is a representative of this school. That means that I expect all of you to be on your best behavior at all times. No drinking, smoking, or drugs. If you get detention, or somehow wind up suspended, believe me when I say this—you will be gone from the team.”

  “No piercings,” she added, staring directly at Amanda’s eyebrow piercing. “No tattoos, either.”

  “Now as far as practice is concerned, I will be dividing all of you into three groups to learn a group routine. I will make sure that at least one of our veterans is in each group, as they will be helping to lead you,” she said, glancing at Monika and the Triple Ts fondly. Already, I sensed her favoritism for the veterans, but I bit my tongue.

  “We’ll spend today and tomorrow learning the group cheer. On Wednesday, I’ll teach each of you an individual cheer. On Thursday, we will review our individual and group cheers. Friday will be the actual tryouts. Group routines will go first, and then each girl will perform their individual routine. Next Monday, I will announce the six chosen, and the alternate. In addition to learning our routines this week, we will be running a mile every day at the end of practice. If you want to be on this team, then you must prove to me that you’re in shape. Any questions?”

  I had a million, but I didn’t dare raise my hand. Hard work didn’t scare me, but I simply couldn’t believe I’d have to wait an entire week to find out if I made the team. What a bummer!

  “I have a question, Coach Davis.” Tasha leaned her head to the side, staring at her bitchy sidekicks. “Which of these freshmen will I be leading in the group routine?” she asked, looking around at the likes of us.

  The sideways glance Coach Davis gave her revealed to me that she might not be as fond of Tasha as I thought. Perhaps I have a shot at beating out the veterans after all, I thought, perking up in my seat.

  “Keep listening and you’ll learn the answer.” She gave Tasha a stern look.

  “First, I will teach the four veterans the cheer, and then I will divide you up into three groups. The veteran girls will then be responsible for teaching their other team members the routine. While I’m teaching Tasha, Tally, Teresa, and Monika, I expect the rest of you to stretch and begin practicing your jumps.”

  We all nodded dutifully and got down on the floor for stretching. Coach Davis led the veterans to the other side of the gym. Girls were chattering, but I was too nervous, and too focused, to engage in small talk right now. I have to learn this group routine perfectly tonight, and please, please, please don’t let me be on Tasha’s team, I prayed. After smarting off to her earlier today, I felt certain she would find a way to screw me up on the routine if she had the chance.

  After Coach Davis taught the veterans the routine, they all returned to the center of the floor, where the rest of us were stretching and doing jumps. Already, I’d noticed that Brittani and Sydney had the highest toe touches and spread-eagles in the bunch. Something else I would have to work on…

  “Line up, girls!” Coach Davis puffed on her whistle, causing my ears to ring.

  We did as we were told, forming a straight line. I knew she was getting ready to announce the group routine teams, so I took a deep breath and childishly crossed my fingers behind my back.

  “The first team will consist of Tasha, Genevieve, Ashleigh, and Sydney.” Sydney was my BFF, but I couldn’t help thinking—better her than me. Being on a team with Tasha and Genevieve would have been unbearable!

  “The second team will consist of Tally, Mariella, and Monika. And the last team will consist of everyone who is left—Teresa, Brittani, Amanda, and Dakota.”

  Although I didn’t like being with one of the Ts or Principal Barlow’s daughter, I was glad to be with Amanda, and relieved that I’d avoided the two worst girls in the group. We immediately broke off into our groups and spread out to opposite areas of the gym. My team chose an area close to the locker room. Genevieve and Tasha’s group took the center of the floor, of course, while the last team headed off to the far right corner.

  I caught Sydney’s eye as she trailed behind Genevieve and Tasha. She looked miserable. Ashleigh was on their team too, and she was wearing an expression to match Sydney’s. No doubt those two snotty blondes would do everything in their power to outshine Ashleigh and Sydney. I felt so bad for them.

  Coach Davis brought each team a compact disc player, and we went to work, learning the routine to music. Teresa demonstrated the entire routine for us while we sat on the floor, studying her moves. It was a complex set of dance movements, cheer motions, and jumps that ended with a basic lift. I could learn the routine…I just needed to learn how to do it better than everyone else.

  Chapter Seven

  Even though Teresa was one of the evil Ts, she turned out to be, much to my delight, quite a terrific teacher. By the time Coach Davis blew her whistle, everyone on my team knew most of the routine by heart. We were competing as individuals, but in order for this group routine to turn out well, we all had to work together and stay in sync.

  Brittani had no problem learning the routine, and Amanda’s skills blew me away. She honestly looked like she’d been cheering for years, instead of the beginner she truly was. She even knew how to do a back handspring, though she’d had no formal gymnastics training. I thought about all the years of classes and practicing I’d invested, and couldn’t help but feel slightly resentful toward her natural abilities.

  “Let’s head out to the track and do a mile!” Coach Davis blew that whistle of hers.

  The school track was located behind the school building. The eleven of us pushed through the heavy steel doors and began our descent to the starting line of the track. Coach Davis assumed her position beside us, and I respected her for running the mile right along with us. She might be tough, but I liked her.

  The whistle sounded and we were off, racing down the long stretch of track, our various types of sneakers pounding against the dirt loudly. I enjoyed the sound of it…it reminded me of being a young girl, racing my friends on the playground at school. I wasn’t the fastest runner, but I did have endurance. I could do this mile, no problem. And I wasn’t worried about out-running the other girls. After all, this was cheerleading, not track.

  I ran at a steady pace, keeping my eyes focused on the lane in front of me. I remembered to control my breathing. By the time I made my way all the way around, I felt exhilarated.

  “As soon as you finish, you’re free to go!” Coach shouted. She was already finished herself, stretching gracefully in the grass next to the track. She didn’t have to tell me twice—I was exhausted.

  Sydney and Amanda caught up with me, and we walked together to the front entrance of the school. Sydney’s dad was parked out front in his silver Mercedes. “Call me tonight. Lots to discuss,” she said breathlessly, jogging off.

  I could see my mother parked several cars back from him, waiting faithfully as always. Not only was my mother always on time, but she was usually early. When I cheered in primary and middle school, she never missed a game. Not that she was one of those crazy cheer moms; quite the contrary. She was simply su
pportive of everything I did, and she wanted me to make the team because she knew how bad I wanted it myself.

  I smiled at her through the windshield of her beat-up Toyota Camry. Considering the size of our house, you’d think she would drive something fancier, but she doesn’t. She likes her old car just the way it is. I couldn’t wait until I had my driver’s license and could drive myself around, but deep down, I knew that someday when I was thirty, I would miss having her there to pick me up every day.

  Amanda was still standing by my side and I knew she was too proud to ask for a ride. I knew for a fact that her Grandma Mimi wasn’t going to leave the house and come pick her up. “Will you ride home with me? Let’s talk about tryouts.” I opened up the back door of the Camry so she could climb in.

  “Hey, Mom!” I greeted her, climbing in beside Amanda. “You don’t mind taking Amanda home, do you? She lives just next door,” I explained, even though my mom already knew who Amanda was.

  “Sure!” she said, in her usual cheerful voice. I could tell that my mom was dying to ask me about tryouts, but I knew she’d wait until after we dropped Amanda off.

  “Our group routine is fabulous! I definitely think the four of us will make it!” Amanda exclaimed excitedly. Since Amanda was new, she didn’t know much about the four veterans, or Ashleigh’s year to finally get a turn, or who Brittani’s mother was, so I had the honor of filling her in. I didn’t want to bum her out by admitting that our chances were slim, but that was exactly what I did. When I was done talking, she looked as though she might cry.

  “I’m sorry,” I told her afterwards, the disappointed expression on her face making me feel guilty.

  “At least we live close to each other, and can practice together!” she reminded me perkily.